Raised to Relate
When Your Pain Becomes Someone Else’s Bridge
Beloved Friend,
We often quote that beautiful Scripture that says we do not have a High Priest who cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities. My go-to when life is lifing (I know that word doesn’t make sense, indulge me 🥺). We say it when we are hurting, misunderstood or to remind ourselves that Jesus understands.
He truly does.
He knows weakness, He’s been betrayed, He knows loneliness and definitely what it feels like to be pressed on every side.
Recently, though, I listened to a sermon (can’t remember whose) and have been thinking about the other side of that truth.
If we have been raised with Christ… if we are called a royal priesthood… then it means we too are being shaped into priests. Priests who can sit with the infirmities of others and not flinch. Priests who can look at someone’s struggle and say, “I understand,” not from theory but from formation.
Omo.
It means the Lord permitted certain things to happen to me because He knew they would not be wasted. Some things were not orchestrated by God though. We live in a fallen world where the adversary intends harm. Yet the principle still stands that all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose. Even when evil was not His design, redemption is always His specialty. What the enemy meant to deform, God can reform. What was meant to reduce me, He uses to refine me.
Scripture says that trials produce perseverance, perseverance produces character, and character produces hope. James also reminds us to count it joy when we face various trials because the testing of our faith produces patience. I have endured seasons that stretched me so deeply that patience became less of a theory and more of a muscle. After waiting through certain storms, waiting for other things does not feel as intimidating. When you have stood still and seen the salvation of the Lord before, you speak differently. You pray differently. You encourage differently. You wait differently.
Now I can tell someone else with conviction that God truly comes through for those who wait on Him. Not because I read it, because I survived it.
The One who sits as a refiner and purifier of silver is not casually watching my life unfold. He is intentional. He is attentive. He is refining in such a way that what emerges is not bitterness, but clarity. Not pride, but purity. Not hardness, but compassion.
Refining is uncomfortable. I know we reposted the video circulating at the end of the year, requesting not to be put on the list of strongest soldiers in the coming year (just dey play). Silver does not volunteer for the fire.Yet the refiner knows how long to keep it there and when to pull it out. The goal is reflection. That the image becomes clearer.
It also means my past struggles are not labels to carry in embarrassment. They are testimonies waiting to be stewarded properly. Shame says hide it but God says redeem it.
Most of my letters to you are written from lived places. Seasons that shaped me, times that tried me and even things I survived. Many of you have written back to say, “I can relate too.” That is priesthood at work. That is shared humanity under grace.
Why is it often easier for someone who has battled lust to gently walk with another who is currently battling it? It is because they remember the pull, the rationalizations and the shame. Ugh! They are not speaking from advantage but from awareness.
A person who has never struggled with addiction can preach truth about freedom. That truth is valid. Yet someone who has walked through dependency, fought withdrawal, rebuilt their life, and come out refined will often carry a tone that feels safer. The addict senses, “You know.”
Someone who has never navigated financial instability may offer sound advice about budgeting. Still, the person who has watched God provide in scarcity will speak with a steadier conviction.
An only child may empathize with sibling rivalry, but someone who has lived in the middle of it understands the nuances instinctively.
Head knowledge is powerful but experience sanctified by the Spirit is transformational.
This is not to say we are limited to ministering only in areas we have personally endured. The Holy Spirit bridges gaps. The gospel is sufficient. Yet God, in His wisdom, often entrusts us with assignments that align with the battles He has already walked us through.
So perhaps the question is not, “Why did this happen to me?” but, “How will this serve the altar?”
I know someone might read all this about patience and refinement and quietly mutter, “Patience? Please miss me with that.” I have said it in my mind more times than I can count when preachers spoke about waiting and endurance, especially in seasons when I was not having it. When the fire felt unnecessary. When the delay felt personal.
Still, time and again, I have had to return to this truth:
Nothing surrendered to God is wasted. Not the tears. Not the delays. Not the detours. Not even the mistakes that humbled us.
Even the seasons we would never volunteer for can become the very proof that God finishes what He starts. The refining may frustrate us, but the result strengthens us. And one day, what felt like an inconvenience becomes someone else’s lifeline.
The High Priest who understands us is raising priests who will understand others.
With thoughts of kindness,
ABBA’s Shofar.